


but a spark

by threefouram



Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: Angst & Porn, English Narration & Mixed Dialogue, Gratuitous Smut, Kabanata 61: Ang Tugisan sa Lawa, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6298651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threefouram/pseuds/threefouram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then let them find us."</p><p>see: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/9829568">Magkasundo Tayo</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but a spark

**Author's Note:**

> _EDIT (2018): In hindsight, I should have known better than to write this because the logistics and practicality of this fanfiction are simply ridiculous. I'm keeping this up on AO3 because it is the first fanfiction that I've posted for the Noli Me Tangere/El Filibusterismo fandom, and even though I'd prefer to forget I ever wrote **the** Elibarra Boat Sex Fic™, it is what it is. I've essentially closed off the comments though, and I hope you understand._
> 
> _You can still comment on the 2017 Rewrite:[Magkasundo Tayo (kahit ngayon lang)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9829568)._
> 
> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/saaille).

"Why can't you come with me?"  
  
"Ginoo," Elias speaks, voice wavering. "They will find us."  
  
"Then let them find us," Crisostomo says sharply, illustrado eyes glaring into the boatman's soul.  
  
"Ginoo," Elias' enunciation shakes.  
  
"Are you wounded by the way I am an Eibarramendia?"  
  
"Ginoong Ibarra—" the fugitive begins to protest. The male in question gets up from his position, knees falling back just as quickly. "Ginoo," Elias shakes his head, "what are you doing?"  
  
"Mm?" he hums back, still with his face directly in front of the bangkero _'_ s crotch.  
  
Elias keeps his voice in his throat and eyes on the water. He lets his hands grip tightly onto the wooden oars, moving as composed as he can with the hot breaths jolting up between his legs. He needs to keep moving, _they will find us,_ his brain insists tauntingly all while his heart seems to increase the blood flowing through his veins.  
  
Ibarra smirks smugly between the man's thighs, tongue swirling into the cloth, and Elias has to stop the wooden boat, still adamant on staring at the murky, fresh water that's swirling like—  
  
  
  
Elias wants this.  
  
Figuratively, Elias is caught between a rock and a hard place. In which his subtle — or at least he thought — pining for the illustrado is getting in the way of both their safeties. Literally, however, the back to his knees are digging into the edge of the boat — and a hard place.  
  
Then suddenly, his length is exposed, in all its arousal before it isn't. He widens his eyes, because _oh—_ Is that Ibarra's mouth— _Oh._ And _oh_ is all he can think because _oh—_ This is actually happening and he's not doing anything to stop his dick from entering those full lips and hitting the back of such a prestigious illustrado's throat, and _oh—_  
  
And again with his tongue, swirling like he's definitely done this before, maybe.  
  
They need to keep going, _right now—_  
  
  
  
But _oh God_ , all Elias wants to do is thrust his hips further into his mouth. "Ginoo," he struggles to say.  
  
"Nghh..." Ibarra hums against the throb of his arousal, his hands reaching lower to dig into his own erection. His palm finds its way easily to his own, and Elias is so very certain now that Crisostomo Ibarra knows what he's doing as he always did.  
  
"Ginoo," he attempts further, eyes already half-lidded.  
  
Ibarra pulls off, vision slightly hazy as he looks up. "Elias," his throat scratches. He tugs at the edges of the bangkero's shirt, torn and filthy. They come tumbling down, oars forgotten at the foot of the boat as Ibarra moves swiftly to straddle the man.  
  
Elias refuses to make any motion, or sound. He cannot even watch as some man — _este,_ Crisostomo Ibarra — breathes and bites into his neck. His cheeks are red, and the tips of his ears are pink. His length and the movements of the smaller figure creates friction between them, sending quick pulsing jolts into his already hot bloodstream.  
  
Crisostomo's hands are all over the place, from the unruly yet silky long hair of the boatman, to the dip in his waistline, back to his jawline, down to where is mouth used to be. "I do not believe that you loathe me more than the simple idea of me, Elias," Ibarra breathes lowly, lips sinking back into the boatman's flesh. The other male stutters his movements beneath the touch, back thudding softly against the wooden vehicle.  
  
The water is fluid as Ibarra's hands, his mouth— The water is mocking Elias, with the sounds of it swishing underneath them.  
  
  
  
"I can no longer give you riches; I can't go back," Ibarra tells him, lips brushing sweetly on his skin with each syllable, "but I can give you love, Elias."  
  
"Stop," he moves his mouth behind Elias, just between above the nape of his neck and his ear, "giving me light when you have lived in the dark for so long."  
  
Elias cannot help but shudder, his voice low as he murmurs, "You deserve the sun, Ginoo. I can give you but a star."  
  
Ibarra looks up at him, removing his head from the flesh on the man's collar bone. "All I need is a spark, Elias."  
  
With that, Elias discards the thoughts of civil guards, and even more so the Philippines. Everything else in this world doesn't matter because _what is Ginoong Ibarra doing to him_  in all the illustrado's nobility and pride. He grabs roughly at the man's accursed necktie, pulling him upwards toward his own mouth, and switches them around.  
  
  
  
Something snaps inside of him, and he doesn't think it's the wood digging into his back. "Kailangan na nating umalis, Ginoo." And Elias stands, thinking perhaps Ibarra would stop there as he moved the boat in further distance.  
  
But there is a needy mewl escaping his throat, and Elias can only look away except maybe he doesn't want to.  
  
The illustrado has beads of sweat trailing down his forehead. There is dampness on his crotch, and fingers ghosting down below. His tie is thrown back, like his head with every arch and curl in his toes. His shirt rides up halfway through his pale stomach. There is no lubrication, just the slack in his jaw and filthy thrusts, and filthier moans.  
  
"Ginoo, makikita nila tayo."  
  
"Mmngh..."  
  
"Ginoo," Elias tries again, visibly struggling to keep his vision on the water. "Ginoo, they will find us."  
  
"Nghh..." Ibarra continues to sound, hips moving in that same upward, distracting curve.  
  
"Christ's sake," Elias grumbles under his breath. And Ibarra's back is arched off the wooden boards, fingers rough against himself as his throat claws out sound Elias did not know he could make. His mouth moves with the rhythm of his hand, stuttered but forceful.  
  
  
  
Perhaps Elias isn't too level-headed afterall. It's just _this one illustrado, an Eibarramendia_ of all things. It's just Crisostomo Ibarra is— _Oh_.  
  
There's a loud sound emanating from the man's mouth, like flames bursting into ashes. There is a string of words that follows, but Elias dismisses it as babble. Except truthfully, the friction between his legs is not as uncertain as he is.  
  
"Elias, Dios mio, hawakan mo ako."  
  
Maybe that's all it took because suddenly, the bangkero's mouth is all over the place, with his legs tangling with the other male's as the glide in each other's touch. Everything is hot, but the water just keeps swaying beneath them. There is a curl of fingers inside of Ibarra and it takes too long entirely for their dazed minds to realize they were the fit boatman's.  
  
Elias swallows the incoherencies flying out the usually articulate man's lips, their lengths brushing with cloth adding friction between their arousals. He has no control over his hand, moving in and out in twisting motions rough and wildly.  
  
"What are you doing to me, Ginoo?" he wonders quietly, lips brushing against this accursed man before his hair interlocked with his feee hand.  
  
He pulls, just slightly but it seems to be enough to send the man over the edge, mind you with Elias' fingers still thrusting inside of him as though it was normal.  
  
  
  
Gunshots, crackling noises and splash sounds.  
  
"Do not take the love I offer this place with all of my soul," Elias warns. "This place you have in my heart is ready; it has always been ready. Care for it and you will reap plenty. Forever, I will love you. This place we both hold so dearly is in need of a love greater than us."  
  
"Elias, kailangan kita _,_ " Ibarra persists.  
  
"Kailangan ka ng Pilipinas."  
  
"Kinakaya ba ng inyong utak ang mga salitang inilalahad ng inyong bibig sa bawat hiwalay ng inyong labi?"  
  
"Ginoong Ibarra—"  
  
"Tawagin mo kong Crisostomo, Elias."  
  
"Ginoong Ibarra, kailangan na nating gumalaw—"  
  
"Let them find us," the man in question growls. "I will not let you die without me, Elias."  
  
"I will not let you die," Elias counters.  
  
  
  
"Kahit kailan nalang ba't hindi tayo magkakasundo?"  
  
"Hindi ko po sinasadya, Ginoo."  
  
"Kailan tayo magkikita muli?" repeats Ibarra.  
  
"Kung kailanma't kailangan ninyo," the bangkero whispers.  
  
"I need you, now."  
  
  
  
Elias grabs at the illustrado's expensive clothing, bringing their lips back in sync.  
  
"Huwag ninyong bibiruin ang tadhana, Ginoo."  
  
"Elias."  
  
  
  
The water bleeds red.  
  
  
  
Gunshots, crackling noises and splash sounds.  
  
****

****__  
  
You might hold your breath, until your breathing stops forever.  
****_The only thing you get is this curse on your lips: I hope they taste of me forever._

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/saaille).


End file.
